Dear Arnold: Letters from Hillwood
by Perhapsormaybe
Summary: It's a simple high school extra credit project - write a letter to Arnold. His friends in Hillwood are all having some hard times...but letters to their old friend seem to make it feel better. Some Helga/Arnold eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This idea was bouncing around in my head, and I'm still on my Hey Arnold! kick…now, eventually I will reach Helga's chapter, but you are going to have to be patient. While she is in some chapters, she will be absent from others. The point of this isn't romance (though there will be some of that, I promise) it's on dealing with how Arnold affected his classmates and how much they all miss him, even a few years later. Mr. Simmons is their teacher because I adore him, and I'm just going by the "Feeney" Principle, (named from the "Boy Meets World" character) in that if a teacher is awesome enough in a series, they can come back to be the kids' teacher over and over again…even into college, if necessary. I am hoping to write a chapter for any kid who was given enough screen time for us to know their personalities. I may write chapters for the boarders, we'll have to see.

**Jungle theories/flashbacks etc. abound. You were warned.**

* * *

Mr. Simmons leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his pencil as the high school kids made their way in, the last few stragglers scrambling desperately for their homeroom class (Mr. Simmons was not the type to write up for tardies, but today was a tardy lock out day, and so in a few minutes he would be forced to refuse admittance to anyone who didn't make the 8:05 cut-off time).

He rose from his seat at the appointed time, ready to lock the door…only Sid had just reached it. Mr. Simmons said nothing, merely jerked his head in the direction of Sid's desk. Sid muttered a thanks before taking his seat. With that, the teacher locked the door, confident that every desk was filled.

"Class, I have a very special surprise for you…" Tardy lock out days were always the best days to start on his projects. They made the students glad to have such a forgiving teacher (though many had been late, Mr. Simmons had always insisted that the alarms must have been fast, and that his wristwatch claimed the students still had ample time. It was an obvious lie, but the students were thankful for it), and that certainly made for less groaning when the project wasn't particularly as popular.

But he thought that it wasn't really necessary this time, it was just random timing. "Do any of you remember Arnold? I believe almost all of you had my class with him back in 4th grade…" Sure enough, several of the kids were nodding. At the mere mention of Arnold's name, Helga had fallen out of her chair.

A few of the kids who were newer to Hillwood gave indifferent looks to their teacher. Sure, they'd heard of Arnold, but they'd never met him.

"Well, this is not absolutely necessary, I just thought it might be fun…and I'd be willing to give extra credit," Mr. Simmons walked up to his dry erase board and pulled the projector screen down with enough force that it rolled back into itself. Behind the screen, scrawled on the board was an address. "Now, since Arnold was so special to almost all of us…I thought we could all write letters to him," he pulled a letter off his desk. "He sent me one just last week and I'm certain he'd love to hear from all of you. Plus five points of extra credit to an English test for anyone who does it. I won't read the letter, you just have to bring it to me in its envelope. I'll even pay the postage."

"How long does the letter have to be?" Harold asked. "I don't wanna have to write a whole page or nothin'."

"As long or as short as you want," Mr. Simmons said warmly, "Just tell him what you're learning, ask him what sort of interesting things he has going on for him in San Lorenzo…tell him about how much fun you had when _we _went to San Lorenzo -"

"Fun?!" Rhonda interrupted. "You think that was _fun_? Do you know how long it took to wash all that jungle crud out of my hair?"

"I thought it was fun," Nadine offered. "All those spiders…" she said dreamily. Rhonda rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and I suppose you liked being chased around by bad guys, nearly dying, and not having a decent shower, too…"

"Well, my point is, kids, Arnold would probably like to hear from you. You can write to him if you want, but you certainly don't have to," Mr. Simmons continued as though he'd never been interrupted. "This is the first address he's had that you can reach him at, but it's for a limited time, kids. His letter told me he'll only be there for another two months, and after that he'll be right back to moving all around San Lorenzo and its neighboring cities and even countries, and good luck trying to mail a letter to him then. Anyways, I've printed copies of his address, and they'll be on my table all day. Pick one up whenever you like…" he gestured towards the white squares on the side of his desk.

That was all it took. Gerald was immediately on his feet. He pocketed a copy of the address, then handed one to Phoebe. They both looked at Helga expectantly, only…not only did she not move, she was decidedly not making eye contact.

"Oh, what the heck, I could use the extra credit," Sid admitted, grabbing a copy. "Hey, Stinky, how 'bout you?"

"Well, I sure could, too," Stinky drawled out, accepting the address. Moments later, anyone who'd known Arnold had a copy of the address…except Helga.

"Helga, weren't you and Arnold -" Rhonda started to ask. Lila shook her head.

"I'm ever-so-certain Helga has her reasons," Lila whispered. "I don't think she wants to be bothered about it."

"Eh, whatever," Rhonda conceded, shrugging it off.

The bell rang a few moments later, and Mr. Simmons waved to the teens as they left for their second period. "Helga? Helga, class is over," the blonde had remained in her seat, tapping her pencil on her desk as she thought. "You know…there's still a copy left. It's the last one. Even if you won't write to him…you should still take it."

"Yeah, whatever," Helga rolled her eyes but took the paper all the same. "Not like it'll make any difference. Football head chose to stay in San Lorenzo, that's it, end of story."

"I…guess. You should really head to your next class, wouldn't want to be late…"

* * *

Gerald was having a terrible day.

Strike that.

Gerald was having an _awful _day.

His and Timberly's backpacks had somehow been switched, leaving him without an important assignment (that while his teacher agreed to accept late, she insisted she would still have to dock points), Phoebe had once again cancelled on their date for the weekend in order to tutor someone, he'd closed his hand on his locker and every class but gym had assigned him a huge load of homework.

"Hey, Gerald, you got a second?" Harold called after him. Gerald groaned.

"What do you need, Harold, I've really got to get going!"

"We're all gonna go play some baseball at Gerald's field today, you in?"

"I don't have time," Gerald insisted, "I don't see how you do, either. Man, do you know how much homework I got? Besides, my hand is throbbing," he held it up to show Harold where he'd been bleeding.

"Don't have to get upset about it or nothin'," Harold mumbled. "We just needed an extra player. You don't come by the field as much anymore."

"Yeah, well…we got older and I actually do my homework."

"I do my homework!" Harold insisted.

"Really?"

"Yeah!…every morning on the bus."

"You ever think about what the 'home' part of 'homework' means?" Gerald smirked. Harold shrugged.

"Well, if you're not gonna play I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around, Harold," Gerald agreed. He shouldered his (Timberly's, really) backpack and headed for the door, thinking as he went.

At first, after Arnold had chosen to stay with his parents, Gerald had been down at Gerald's field more often than anyone. It had reminded him of his best friend. The only problem was, when he first started going it was with the thought that Arnold would be back soon.

But he hadn't come back. Gerald was sixteen now, and hadn't seen Arnold since they were both nine. Sure, he still had friends, and he had Phoebe, but he and Arnold had been so close since …it seemed like forever to him.

This kind of day was the type that made it all the worse. Arnold's optimistic disposition was sometimes laughable, but it had always made Gerald believe that there really was an upside to everything, that everything could and would turn out all right. And Arnold would have listened to Gerald's complaints about today and shown sympathy and interest, while still gently telling him why it wasn't nearly as big of a deal was Gerald was making it out to be.

Gerald had considered all of this on his way home. He handed Timberly her backpack, and she returned his, before he headed up to his room.

"Gerald!" Timberly came running after him. "This fell out of the side, and it isn't mine…" she handed him Arnold's address. Gerald smirked.

"Thanks, Timberly. Now get out of my room."

"But I helped you!"

"That's why I said thanks. Now scoot," he pushed her out and slammed the door behind her. "…I guess the homework can wait for just a bit," he decided, pulling out some scrap paper and a pen.

_Hey Arnold,_

_How you doin, man? I bet the jungle's still all sorts of crazy, huh? Can't be quite as bad as our trip down there. That was crazy. I've told you before and I'll say - write - it again. You are one bold kid, Arnold. What are you doing for school? I guess you get to be home schooled? (Jungle schooled?) Bet that's cool. _

_This probably won't reach you in time, but I could sure use your advice. Phoebe's always busy these days and it feels like I'm always busy, too. High school is crazy. Sometimes I feel like it's all too much. I haven't slept very well in a while. I bet you'd point out to me right now that I don't sleep that well cause I play video games until two in the morning. And that Phoebe's trying to help kids understand school, so I shouldn't be hard on her about it…and then you'd probably have some great way to organize my work so that it's easier to get it done and turn it in on time. And then you'd tell me that while you really want to hear from me, I shouldn't be writing letters while I still have so much homework to do. And you'd be right._

_Thanks, Arnold. I still miss you, man. Come back home soon. It's been too long._

_~Gerald_

_P.S. - Are there any fine women where you are? I hope you're not still all hung up on Helga. _

Gerald reread his work before setting the letter aside. He'd still send it, but merely writing the letter had gotten him the results he needed. He felt like Arnold had been talking to him even as the words flowed from his pen. And that thought really helped.

**Author's Note: **Like I said, I will try for every character. Helga's will be last. Grandpa will definitely get one, Grandma ...probably will, just for the sake of hilarity. Still not sure about the other boarders. I hope this is enjoyable and please, please PLEASE call me out on it if a character is out of character. Okay? Thanks.


	2. Strained

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the kind reviews. They are greatly appreciated.

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd slammed her car door and glanced around warily. She let out a sigh of relief when it appeared she was alone. "Good, I don't have to deal with him tod--" before she could finish, Curly had appeared seemingly out of thin air, holding a single red rose.

"Well hello, Rhonda, fancy meeting you here!"

Rhonda groaned. "We've been over this, Curly. Student parking spaces are assigned, and you've known from the first day of this year that this is my spot. What do you want?"

"You know what I want!" he cried dramatically, going down on one knee. "I want you, Rhonda! I'll follow you to the ends of the earth!"

"Or you could just go jump off a cliff," she muttered, walking away from him. As always, he followed after her, clutching the rose so hard it started to fall apart. "I'm serious, Curly, how many times do I have to turn you down before you leave me alone?!"

"Keep playing hard to get, I'll catch you one day! Do you hear me? I'll catch you one day!" Rhonda hid her face behind one hand as she ran for the hallway. By now, most of the kids in the front quad had started staring at Curly, who was laughing maniacally as he stood in the center, telling anyone who would listen that it was only a matter of time until Rhonda was his.

"Is he still on about that?" Rhonda had nearly run Nadine over in her haste to escape Curly's admirations. Nadine was on the ground, carefully sneaking a jar up on an unsuspecting spider. "I thought you'd told him you weren't interested."

"Every day since the fourth grade," Rhonda sighed. "The freak's delusional. Like I'd really be interested in him…What are you _doing_, Nadine?"

"Huh? Oh, the principal asked me to take a look…he thought this was a brown recluse, but I'm sure you can easily tell that it's not, but I wanted to see _exactly _what it was…and I don't think he'll believe me until I have an exact name. I think it's just an ordinary cobweb spider…" the spider was finally backed up enough into the jar for Nadine to close the lid. "I was going to take it to the Science wing and see if one of the Biology teachers knows what she is…do you want to come?"

"Pass," Rhonda said, eyeing the spider with suspicion. "Besides, what if that thing _is _poisonous?"

Nadine chuckled. "First off, it's venemous, not poisonous. Poisonous means dangerous to eat, venemous is when it gets into you through the spider or animal biting you. Besides, do you know how few people die of spider bites every year? There's only four types of spiders that are honestly considered dangerous to humans, and even those rarely kill anyone."

"Wow, Nadine, that is just fascinating," Rhonda hadn't meant it so sarcastically - …well, she _had_, but she'd hoped Nadine wouldn't notice.

Nadine shrugged and walked off without so much as a goodbye. She'd noticed. And she was not happy about it.

Nadine was not concerned about fashion, her hair style was still the exact same way she'd worn it since she was four, her obsession with bugs and spiders and other insects had only seemed to grow with time, and she'd still only had one boyfriend (a rather disastrous one week affair with Peapod Kid) and she didn't seem interested in trying to find a new one.

"There she is again! Walking away from Rhonda!" Rhonda pretended not to overhear the cheerleader, using the cover of visiting her locker to eavesdrop all the better. "She is such a weird-o! Always talking about spiders, bringing bugs into class…" the cheerleader shuddered. "I have no idea why Rhonda hangs out with her."

"Maybe it's to make her look better?" Another girl, wearing a beret, suggested. "That hair is just a mess, it'd make anyone look good by comparison."

Rhonda slammed her locker door shut, hoping that would be enough to stop the chatter. It didn't distract the gossipers in the least bit. They continued talking, the cheerleader explaining some time that Nadine had shown up in class and let a tarantula loose.

Rhonda couldn't stomach it anymore. Now that she had her books, she headed for Mr. Simmons's class, her insides feeling like they were tied in knots. She took her seat and waited for class to begin. She glanced at Nadine guiltily. Why hadn't she said anything to those girls?

Well, that was easy. Since they'd reached high school, the two had started to drift apart. Rhonda had dated a few guys here and there (though she was currently single, her last boyfriend having broken up with her when he couldn't take Curly's constant interference in their dates anymore), she was regarded as popular and she was considered quite the fashionista. Their differences had helped them before, but high school was proving to be a test their friendship just couldn't seem to overcome.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Gerald," Mr. Simmons took the letter from him. "Five extra points on your last English test, unless you'd like to save it…?"

Gerald shook his head. "I barely failed the one that had "The Lottery" questions on it, can I just get the points added to that?"

"Certainly!" Mr. Simmons agreed. "So, class, did anyone else finish their letter to Arnold?" There was a collective of heads shaking no. Mr. Simmons smiled. "Well, that was only the first day. Still some time left. But remember, kids, I do need them soon. Arnold will only be in that location for so long. And some of you really could use the extra points."

Rhonda contemplated for a moment, considering whether it was worth the trouble. Mr. Simmons would not check the letters, if she really wanted to she could merely scrawl a greeting and her name and still get the points. And she certainly could use them.

"Mr. Simmons, do you think we could work on them now?" Rhonda asked, not bothering to raise her hand.

"Well, I don't know," he glanced at the notes he'd already placed on the board. "We still need to start our mystery unit…"

"Please?" Rhonda pressed. "Just for a few minutes of class time?"

"Yeah, c'mon!" Sid added in, "It's not really fair to give us homework _and_ expect us to do _this_ at home."

"Oh, all right," Mr. Simmons caved, just as Rhonda had been certain he would. "But let's not spend too much time on it, all right? Just about ten minutes."

The sound of paper being ripped from notebooks and people asking to borrow pens were the only sounds in the room. Gerald and Helga were the only ones in the room not writing. Rhonda hunched herself over her paper.

At first, she thought about going through with her initial idea - write 'hey, Arnold. From Rhonda Wellington Lloyd', but after getting this opportunity out of Mr. Simmons she felt far too guilty over the idea of tricking him for a second time that day.

_Hey, Arnold,_

_It's me. Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. Hard to believe I haven't seen you since fourth grade. We've known each other since what, preschool? All of us have. I guess that's why it's so weird to look around and see everyone but have you missing. Or maybe it's because you always gave such great advice. _

_High school's a weird time. Nadine's bug obsession has gotten so bad that other kids are making fun of her and I feel like I can't be around her or I'll be mocked, too. Now don't accuse me of being shallow! I certainly am not! Is it so wrong not to want to be teased? She's pretty, she'd be popular if she'd ignore the spiders and bugs and changed that hairstyle. Maybe to a nice half up-do? I bet she'd look fantastic that way. _

_Other kids don't see the potential Nadine has like I do. They just see this weird bug girl, like she's defined by her love of bugs. It's so stupid and immature. They really can't see how great she is, well it's their loss then!_

_Oh. Well, thank you, Arnold. Just writing this was kind of like hearing you give me advice (without having to feel like you're butting in where you're not wanted. I'm sorry, Arnold, but you know it's true). _

_I've forgotten my manners, how are you?_

_~Rhonda Wellington Lloyd_

"Well, that's enough time," Mr. Simmons said. Rhonda looked up to realize Mr. Simmons had been overly generous with their time - the bell was about to ring. She folded her letter and grabbed an envelope from the corner of Mr. Simmons's desk, and put the letter in, somehow feeling much better. She had a good idea of what she needed to do now.

* * *

"There she is again!"

Rhonda clenched her fist. Once more, the cheerleader from this morning was pointing at Nadine and laughing. It was obvious Nadine could hear her, but she just continued prodding around the dirt, looking for a cricket she thought she'd spied earlier.

"Hey!" The girl turned around when Rhonda called to her. "What is your problem? What did Nadine ever do to you?"

The cheerleader looked caught off guard. "I…uh…nothing. She didn't do anything to me, but she's just so weird. You have to think so too, right?"

"Of course I do!" Rhonda insisted, causing Nadine to look up from her cricket hunt. "But she's my best friend, and you don't get to call her weird. Only I get to call her weird. Got it? Now tell her you're sorry."

"Or what?" The cheerleader had finally come to her senses, planting her hands on her hips as though to indicate she was going to stand her ground. "Why should I apologize to her?"

"Because if you don't…" Rhonda leaned in and whispered something. The other girl eyed her hatefully.

"Fine," she turned her attention to Nadine. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"That's right it won't," Rhonda agreed. "Now get out of here." The cheerleader took off, obviously frustrated. "Nadine…I'm so sorry. I should have stood up for you sooner, and I should have been making time for you and yeah, I think you're weird, but it's also what makes you unique, and I love that about you."

Nadine chuckled. "It's really not all that bad. I've gotten used to it. People think I'm weird cause I love bugs. I think they're kinda strange for _not _seeing how beautiful they are. And sometimes the clothes you wear are downright scary."

"I deserved that," Rhonda said. "You forgive me for being a lousy friend?"

"Don't I always? So...what did you threaten that girl with?"

"Oh...her nose is _clearly _the work of a plastic surgeon. I told her I'd tell everybody if she didn't leave you alone. But can you believe that girl?" Rhonda asked, meaning the cheerleader. "Making fun of someone just for being a little bit different? I mean, what kind of person does that?"

Nadine shrugged. "Oh, I almost forgot - Curly was looking for you."

"That little freak?" Rhonda asked, groaning. "I _have _to tell you what he did this morning, he is so weird --"

**Author's Note: **…yeah, the joke at the end was obvious. And I'm mean to Curly, but it's also because I love him and he's funniest when he's being crazy.


	3. Learning Issues

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the reviews, they are very sweet. If you have any requests for what you'd like to see a character going through (Or you're concerned I may not give a chapter to a character you really like), please, feel free to make suggestions. I do have ideas for most characters, but I'm able to admit when other people's ideas are better. And this time the advice isn't given from the Arnold letter (…I don't want this story getting redundant, after all)

**Spelling and grammar mistakes in Harold's letter are done intentionally…**Even so, they still make me wince to write and to look at.

Though Rhonda had coaxed an entire class period of letter writing out of Mr. Simmons, very few of the kids had actually written. Harold's mind had gone blank the moment he'd put the pencil to the paper, and instead he spent the rest of that particular class period doodling robots in the margins.

When the bell rang after each period, Harold always gathered his books together and went to his next class. He wasn't really a disruptive kid, but he just couldn't seem to grasp what the teachers were saying. He hated that most of all. He was taking basic level classes, but they all made him feel stupid. He couldn't bring himself to speak up and ask for help, and though Mr. Simmons kept offering assistance, Harold kept blowing him off for football practice.

His size meant he was a wonderful offensive tackler, and the coach had grabbed him up from his first day of his freshman year.

Which unfortunately had only lead to more problems. Most of his grades were technically passing…but only because Harold's coach had had 'talks' with his teachers. At first, Harold hadn't known what was going on, but when he'd found out…he started off being okay with it. After all, it was a free ride. He didn't have to study, didn't have to worry too much about his grades…but then it had started feeling sour. Plus his Math teacher and Mr. Simmons both refused to go along with the charade. Mr. Simmons graded on enough of a curve that Harold was still squeaking by, but his Math teacher, Mrs. Hume, was not having any of it. He'd managed a thirteen on his last test, and that meant he would not be playing football much longer. Not if his grades stayed this way.

"Hey, Harold!" Sid called out. "You wanna go out to Gerald's field tonight?"

"I dunno, I guess…" Harold rubbed his head, wondering if he should take Gerald's suggestion about doing his homework at home. "I got lots of stuff to do."

"That bites," Stinky sympathized.

"Yeah," Harold muttered. "See you guys around." He waved them off, thinking things over. Mr. Simmons was constantly telling him if he would just stop by the classroom after school, he'd give him a hand, but Harold hated the idea of having a tutor. He turned around, about to head home, when he ran right into Big Patty. "Ouch! Watch where you're going, you big dumb --"

"Harold, it's me," Patty helped him up. She was used to Harold's aggression. They'd even dated for a while, but they'd grown apart. He was a bit immature, and with her being two years older it just hadn't worked out. "What are you still doing here?"

"Nothin'. What are _you _still doing here?"

"I spend my last period as Mr. Simmons's student helper. He asked me to run some errands."

"Oh. …I hate that class. It's too confusing."

"What's confusing about it?"

"I dunno…we read some story about a lottery, but …but the ending was real weird, and the lady didn't win any money or anything. And now we're reading Sherlock Holmes and I don't get what redheads have to do with anything."

"So tell Mr. Simmons you don't get it," Patty suggested matter-of-factly. Harold groaned.

"You're just like him. If I go to his class after school everyone's gonna think I'm a dummy."

"Do you think I'm a dummy, Harold?"

"I dunno."

Patty rolled her eyes. "I'm not. I've got a few Cs here and there, but I mostly get Bs. In some of my classes I have to get extra help, because sometimes I don't get what the teacher's saying right away. Especially in Geometry. But I get help, and no one makes fun of me for it. No one would make fun of you either."

"I guess…"

"I'm heading back to Mr. Simmons's room now, if you want to come with me," Patty offered. "I'll even help explain "The Lottery" to you if you want. I read it when I was in your grade, too."

"Okay," Harold agreed. They walked downstairs together to the English hall. Mr. Simmons looked a little surprised to see Harold there, but he also looked delighted.

"Harold…did you come for some help?"

"Yeah, I guess," Harold refused to make eye contact, staring instead at the dry erase board. "Patty said she'd help me a bit with it."

"Good, good. I'm sure she'll be an extra special helper," Mr. Simmons clasped his hands together. "This is wonderful. You know…I really shouldn't do this, but if you want, after you finish reviewing with her, I'll let you try to take "The Lottery" test again."

"Really?" Harold asked anxiously. Mr. Simmons nodded. "Okay, I guess I could try…"

Harold sat down and Patty had him read the story out loud to him. They went by paragraph-by-paragraph, with her explaining the mood Shirley Jackson was trying to set with the story, and explaining what was meant by the twist ending.

"Do you think you get it?"

"I…think so…" Harold said, gulping when Mr. Simmons laid the test in front of him. Mr. Simmons gave him a thumbs up sign, and Harold started on the test, feeling sweat beads form on his face as he went.

It took him an hour to finish, but it only took Mr. Simmons about a minute to grade. "I'm sorry, Harold…you did much better than last time, but I'm afraid you missed by one question."

"Aww, man. I knew it. I'm stupid. There's no way I'm gonna pass…" Harold groaned. "I really tried this time!"

"You know…you could finish your letter to Arnold," Mr. Simmons suggested. "That will get you a passing grade."

"But what do I write to him?"

"Anything you want."

Harold sighed and sat back down at his desk, pulling a sheet of paper and a pen out as he went. He waved goodbye to Patty (who'd been kind enough to stay as inspiration while he'd taken the test) before he started in.

_hey arnold,_

_How is it in san lorenzo. i hope that stupid monkey that chased sid and stinky and me bit the big one. Mr simmons is our teacher again. His class is so confuzing but not as bad as math witch is really really confuzing and i think the teecher hates me. _

_I kinda miss havin you around Arnold. You wernt all that bad I guess. No bodys changed but it still seems werd without you. Big patty helped me out today kinda like you always used to. _

_~Harold_

He folded the letter and handed it to Mr. Simmons, the look in his eyes hopeful. "You have now officially passed the test. Congratulations, Harold."

"Yes! I'm _not_ a dummy!" Harold pumped his fist triumphantly into the air.

"No…you're not," Mr. Simmons agreed. "Which is why I don't understand why you took so long to ask for help. There's nothing wrong with it, Harold."

"Yes there is. Sid'n Stinky'll both make fun of me."

"That may be," Mr. Simmons considered, "But you'll be passing, and then they really can't call you stupid, right?"

"I guess…"

"So maybe you should go see Mrs. Hume?"

"You know about that?"

Mr. Simmons nodded. "Yes, and I also know that you're smarter than this, Harold."

"…I am?"

"Yes. You are. Promise me you'll see Mrs. Hume tomorrow after school?"

Harold sighed. "All right, Mr. Simmons. I'll see her tomorrow. I promise."

"Good."

Harold took off from class, wishing he hadn't made the promise because he knew he'd feel guilty if he didn't follow through. Mr. Simmons sat back at his seat, and opened the letter that had come for him just that morning.

_Dr Mr. Simmons,_

_How are you? I think it's great that you're teaching our old class again. How are all of them doing? I really do miss them, but they don't have to write me if they don't want to. Thanks for thinking of me, though. Any letters I do get I'll appreciate. _

_I'm being home schooled right now. My parents know lots, but I miss not being the only one in class. Plus getting in trouble at school is a lot easier to handle when your parents aren't the teachers! _

_Yeah, when we all came here it was pretty crazy. Let Harold know the monkey that bit them is doing fine, but it turns out 'he' is a she and she had babies…three of them, that my dad named after him, Sid, and Stinky. He thought it was funny. Mom…didn't agree. _

_I really do miss home sometimes. I think about it a lot, and about everyone there. I might get to visit soon, but please don't let the other kids know. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up. _

_Hope this letter finds you well,_

_~Arnold_


	4. Overload

**Author's Note: **Another attempted Helga poem. I enjoy writing poetry, but I always worry…if a character reacts to Helga's poem, it's always positively, and then I have to worry that the poem I wrote was not up to snuff. I like what I wrote, but let's face it, poetry is terribly subjective. I contemplated just having Phoebe borrow Helga's copy of Sylvia Plath's poems and having her read "Mad Girl's Love Song" (If you have not read this poem, I suggest you do so. It is easily my favorite), but I felt it would lose potency and not be nearly as applicable to the plot. I apologize if Helga's poem was not good enough.

Phoebe shook for a moment, then righted herself, letting out a sigh of mixed exasperation and exhaustion. She pulled her backpack off and set it on the ground, heaving a bit from the effort. Desperately she searched the contents, hoping for something, _anything_, that wasn't necessary for tonight's homework and could be safely deposited in her locker until tomorrow. She let out another sigh when she realized that she had homework in every subject. She considered taking the poetry book Helga had lent her away, but felt a pang of guilt - somewhere in the tome resided Helga's first ever published work, and she'd promised Helga that she'd read it tonight.

"How much does that thing weigh?" Phoebe jumped and turned to face her long-time boyfriend, Gerald. He tried to lift her backpack with one hand, but barely got it off the ground. He studied his small framed girlfriend, his face quizzical. "How does a small girl like you lift that?"

"Practice," Phoebe snorted, lifting the bag and slinging it over her shoulders, trying to make it look effortless.

"Mmm-mm-mm," Gerald shook his head. "Don't know how you do it. You want a hand?"

"I can handle it," Phoebe snapped. Gerald raised an eyebrow. She looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Gerald. It just seems I'm laboring under the pressures that I put on myself and the pressures everyone else puts on me. I have homework in every class, I have to tutor three times a week, then there's dates with you and Helga's been complaining that I don't make time for her anymore…"

Gerald flung an arm over Phoebe's shoulder. She tried to snuggle into him, but before she could, he'd seized her bag and thrown it onto his shoulders, the hug merely a means to that end. "Oh, Gerald, don't, you've already got your own book bag…"

He chuckled. "Mine barely weighs anything, wanna check?" she shook her head. "Eh, suit yourself. Trust me, though, the only homework I've got is from Mr. Simmons. And I've got all weekend to do it!"

"Aren't you lucky," Phoebe muttered.

"So, get the hard stuff out of the way and then do the easy work. We don't _have _to have a date this week."

"Easy work," Phoebe snorted. "None of it's easy work, except…well, Mr. Simmons _is_, and I intend to write that letter to Arnold for the extra credit -"

"Not that you need it," Gerald added. Phoebe ignored him, but he knew he was right. Simmons wrote easy tests. For a girl like Phoebe, they were never any trouble.

"The rest of it…I can handle it, I just feel like I'm being stretched too thin. I don't know how I'm going to handle all of it as well as extracurriculars…You know, for college applications…"

"Have you considering dropping a class? Or not tutoring anymore? …or you could always stop hangin' out with Helga," Gerald suggested.

"You may not get along with her, but she's still my best friend."

"I know, I know. But I can dream, can't I?" Gerald joked. Phoebe managed a weak chuckle, but shook her head.

"Obviously I won't give up you or Helga, but the tutoring…those kids need my help. And the other classes I just can't give up, they look so good on college admissions. Plus I really think my Psychology teacher is on the verge of a break through, she is very intelligent and most interesting to listen to."

"I dunno, Phoebe. If you think you can handle it all, great, but I am kinda worried about you. Let me walk you home, that'll be out date for this week so you have one less thing to worry about."

"I find that most agreeable," Phoebe said, grabbing his extended hand. "But shouldn't I take my bag back?"

"Nope, I'm carrying it home for you. No arguments."

The two walked to Phoebe's house in silence, both of them trying to figure out a solution to Phoebe's problem. But once they reached the stoop, nothing had come to mind to either of them. "Sorry I couldn't be more of a help," Gerald gave her a peck on the cheek and returned her bag to her. "Try to take it easy, find at least one simple thing to do, okay?"

"I'll try…"

Gerald watched her disappear into her house and shook his head. "_Man_, that girl does too much…" he noted before making his own way home.

Inside, Phoebe dumped the contents of her pack out on her bed, sorting it out by importance, as was her typical custom. First was her Psychology project, then her Calculus homework, Anatomy, Mr. Simmons's assignment (by far the shortest - just two pages on her opinion of "The Redheaded League" by Arthur Conan Doyle). As an afterthought, she added Arnold's address and the book Helga's poem had been published in to the group, placing them last.

"I suppose I should get started," She resigned herself to her work, her pencil flying across the page, only stopping on occasion to erase an accidental misspelling or to grab a new book and move onto the next subject. She took one thirty minute break for dinner and to use the restroom, but returned immediately to her work once her hands were dry. It was three in the morning when she finished, with only a few more questions to finish on the Psychology project (but as they required her to get answers from someone else, she figured she was as close to done as she could be). She threw the books onto the floor, fully intending to go to sleep, but was annoyed to find she'd somehow gained a second wind. "I really should sleep…but I suppose extra credit work _is_ more important…" she reached down to grab Arnold's address from where it had fallen when she spied the poetry book out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed it as well, holding the book in the flat of one hand with Arnold's address still in the other. She seemed to weigh them against each other before sitting back down on her bed, and after a moment's hesitation, setting Arnold's address to the side.

"Oh, Helga," Phoebe shook her head when she scanned the table of contents and realized Helga's name was not listed. She smirked when she found that there was only one entry that had been submitted anonymously. "That'll be Helga's," she figured aloud, thumbing through the pages until she reached the poem at about mid-section.

_I can't remember the last time the clock ticked -_

_Was it minutes, hours, seconds or days?_

_The second hand stays decidedly upon that hour,_

_Who am I to ask it to change its ways?_

_Time marches on, yet so maddeningly still_

_How can you still have me in your power?_

_I dream of you every night, teasing me with your presence_

_I hold you as long as I can, but light steals you away from me_

_I dream of you every night, torturing me with visions of your present_

_Making me pay dearly for my penance_

_I eye the clock with disdain,_

_Another hour waxed and waned,_

_Or merely another second passed me by?_

_Time itself mocks and tortures, but is it even your concern?_

_I held you in this lifetime, but only for a moment,_

_Even this distrustful clock tells the truth there_

_Why can't I move on? Why won't I learn?_

_Such a beautiful, amazing lie you wove_

_Clever trick, cruel time you gave me_

_The clock ticks by only while I'm not looking -_

_Yet I know it must go forward, that much I can see_

_But do these long years bring you closer_

_Or is it simply not meant to be?_

_-Anonymous_

Phoebe had always been amazed at Helga's talent for poetry, and tonight was no exception. "Poor Helga…you still miss him," she grabbed Arnold's address and studied it, considering things.

Phoebe's problems were all self-induced. She tutored because it made her feel good to help (and made her feel smart), she took on all the hardest classes to challenge herself…Gerald and Helga were the only two constants in her life that weren't a chore, and neither of them asked too much of her. Sure, sometimes Helga could be selfish and only want to talk about her own problems, but Phoebe was a kindhearted enough person to realize why Helga needed that.

"Oh, but I can't give any of it up," she thought aloud. "I love my classes and…" she considered her tutoring job and sighed. _That_ she didn't love. It had been more self-indulgent, a way to make herself feel smarter without acting superior, but really all it had brought were frustrations. A lot of the kids she wound up with expected her to do the work for them, or she'd end up upset because she couldn't figure out a way to help them. She considered what Helga would do in the situation.

_Well_, Phoebe could hear Helga's voice clearly in her mind. _I'd say I'm sick of this crap and if these morons can't learn it on their own, tough luck, their problem, not mine._

She figured Gerald would have a far nicer approach, but just as Phoebe could never imitate how nonchalant Helga could be, she could also never match Gerald's cool disposition.

"Arnold!" Phoebe snapped her fingers. She and Arnold had always gotten along well, both of them preferring to be polite and kind as much as they could. "Well, it is quite silly, it's not like he could answer me immediately…still, it might make me feel better, and you can't know the outcome of an experiment unless you actually try it…" Phoebe grabbed another blank sheet of paper and squeezed her hand into a fist a few times, loosening it up in preparation to start writing again before grabbing her pencil once more.

_Dear Arnold,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. How are you? How about your parents? I bet having class in such an exotic environment is fascinating. How's that monkey doing? Helga insists that it must have died after taking a bite out of Harold, but I keep telling her how unlikely that is. _

_She really misses you. I was about to tell you all about my problems, about how hard it is for me to sort through things…and then I thought of that. I can figure out on my own how to tell the principal that I'm not interested in tutoring kids anymore. I feel terrible for having even brought it up now, though knowing you well enough, I doubt you'd hold it against me. I was feeling a bit overworked, but I'll get it all under control. There are worse things. Besides, my grade point average is still perfect._

_Just in case you're wondering, I'm fine, and so is Gerald. I know he already wrote his own letter to you, but I'm not sure he told you that. We're still dating. It's been a pretty long time. He's a great guy, I'm very happy with him. _

Phoebe paused for a moment, then snatched up the poetry book, writing feverishly, feeling the guilt rise up in her stomach, but she felt she had to do this. She transcribed Helga's poem into the letter before adding her final paragraph.

_I didn't write this, Arnold. I know you know who did. I just thought you might want to see it, especially since I know she wouldn't have told you, but it was published. Anonymously, but still published. I thought you might be interested in seeing it. _

_Write back soon, if you can_

_~Phoebe_

Phoebe sighed and rechecked the letter for grammar errors before folding it up and placing it on her nightstand. If Helga found out about the poem, she might never forgive her. Phoebe wasn't even sure why she'd included it, but she'd suddenly felt it necessary. She wrote a quick note to herself about trying to write a formal resignation letter from her tutoring duties before she curled up into her bed and yawned, finally falling asleep a mere two hours before her alarm was set to go off.

When the alarm _did _go off, for the first time in three years, Phoebe hit the snooze button, rolled over and went back to sleep.

**2nd Author's Note: **That poem is going to be very important to this story. Next chapter will most likely be Eugene, though I'm contemplating Brainy (I'm trying to switch off so that every other chapter is a girl's chapter)


	5. Smiling

**Author's Note: **Some characters will be getting chapters together. For example, the Rhonda chapter already dealt with Nadine's problem, so I don't see a point in giving her her own chapter (Sorry Nadine!). As such, this is a chapter for both Eugene and Lila. Not really in a relationship sort of way (though I do like the pairing myself, but I don't really think it was supposed to be canon, so it won't be coming into play here). …Poor Arnold. I just realized everyone runs to him as counselor.

"I'm okay!" The words were slightly drowned out beneath the pile of books Eugene was presently buried under. Lila and Stinky each grabbed an arm and fished him out. Once he was back on his feet, he brushed himself off and looked over the pile that had nearly crushed him. "Ooh, I was looking for this one!" he cried happily, seizing one of the books from the pile.

"I reckon you're 'bout the only one who wouldn't be bothered by a bunch of books conkin' you on the head like that," Stinky shook his head. "How'd that happen, anyhow?"

"I don't know," Eugene admitted. "I was just walking past the lockers, on my way to the bike rack and a bunch of them opened all at once and poured out on me. But I'm okay, _and_," he gleefully held up the book he'd grabbed, "This book is overdue, and I've been trying to check it out for a month. I can take this to the library so that it's turned in and then turn right back and check it out. This is my lucky day!"

"Your lucky day sounds an awful lot like an average or bad day to me," Stinky insisted. "But right now I've got myself a bus to catch. I suppose I'll be catchin' both of y'all tomorrow." Having dismissed himself, Stinky took off, leaving Lila and Eugene alone together in the hallway.

"Walk me to the library?" Eugene asked.

"I'm ever so certain I'd enjoy that," Lila agreed.

The pair walked in silence, as was their usual habit. Their optimism was considered strange by most, and had alienated them from most of their peers. Lila was reasonably well liked by the guys, but unfortunately reaching high school she'd encountered several girls who had reacted badly to her normal mannerisms. It was almost as bad as when she'd first moved to Hillwood, only these girls hadn't taken the time to get to know her and realize they were wrong like the girls in fourth grade had. Sometimes the other kids from Mr. Simmons class would stand up for her, but they couldn't be around all the time.

But Eugene was even more of an outcast. His sunshine disposition, coupled with his bad luck, ensured that very few people got close to him. He was just too untroubled by all his misfortunes - it made people uncomfortable, somehow even more uncomfortable than the danger one put oneself in merely by being around him. As such, the pair had become much closer friends the past few years. They could relate to one another very well.

Eugene grabbed the library door and let Lila go in first. She waved at the librarian, who waved back but quickly dove beneath her desk when she saw Eugene.

"Hi, Mrs. Burkowitz!" he called, not the least bit phased (or surprised) by her reaction.

"Hello, Eugene," She kneeled behind her desk, coming up just far enough for the teenagers to see her bespectacled eyes watching them. "Please, maybe Lila could find you what you're looking for? …I'm sorry, but the last time you came in it took me three weeks to reshelf all those books and to fix that one cabinet."

"I'm not going towards the shelves today," he chirped, laying the book down on the table. "This was the one I was looking for then anyways. I figured since it's overdue the owner wouldn't mind too terribly much. And I really do want to read it."

"Ah. Well, I don't see too much harm in that," the librarian agreed, scooting herself back into her chair and examining the book. "Ah, yes, the story behind the classic musical _Eugene, Eugene_…excellent choice. It's one of my favorites." She marked the book back in for the overdue account. "Your student pin?"

"1313," Eugene replied. She typed it in, scanned the book and then handed it back. "Thanks Mrs. Berkowitz!"

"Lovely to see you both again," she called after them, waving. "And even more wonderful, he didn't knock a single thing over on himself!" she muttered. But to prove her wrong, a globe, seemingly of its own accord, dropped from the top shelf of the case nearest the doorway and beaned Eugene right on the head.

"Eugene! Are you all right?" Lila asked, setting him up after he'd fallen.

"I'm okay," he answered in a sort of half-daze. He shook it off and pushed himself to his feet. "Sorry about that, Mrs. Berkowitz!" He practically ran for the exit when he saw the frustrated look on her face. She eyed the globe warily, but even from a few feet away, she could see that Australia was now dented in. She groaned before going to pick it up, desperately hoping she could mend it.

Eugene and Lila again walked in silence towards the bike rack. Most days he'd walk his bike home and walk beside her. He considered voicing the issues he was going through, how bothered he was that sometimes people acted like it was all his fault that he was constantly getting hurt, how hurt he was that people avoided him, but he couldn't bring himself to labor his friend with his own troubles.

What he didn't know was Lila was considering telling him her own issues, finally vocalizing how she was treated whenever she was stuck in a room with only girls, especially if none of them were from her old fourth grade class. But from where she was standing, it seemed unfair to unload her issues on poor Eugene, who went through so terribly much.

They sighed in unison, unable to vent their true emotions. Eugene waved to her when they reached her apartment, then went on another block to his own. It would have been faster if he'd ridden his bike the last stretch, but he'd realized that the less time spent on it, the less serious injuries he tended to incur.

He headed for his bedroom and set his things down, promptly setting to work on his homework. He finished relatively quickly, hoping to finish with enough time to spare to get to read his Eugene, Eugene: The Story That Inspired a Classic. Just as he was about to crack the spine, however, his mom called him dinner.

"Darn," he muttered. "I'll be right back, don't go anywhere," he told the book, setting it down carefully on his bed.

"Slow down, you'll stab yourself with your fork again," His mother insisted. "Really, what's your rush tonight?"

"I gotta really good book I want to work on…"

"Oh, well that's nice. But slow down, you don't want to choke again…_chew_ your noodles, honey, don't just slurp them down. Remember when you had to get your stomach pumped?"

"I know, I know," Eugene insisted, gulping down another forkful of spaghetti.

"How's school going? Any interesting projects?"

"Not really…well…we're supposed to write a letter to Arnold for extra credit…"

"The kid who killed your goldfish?" Her eyebrows twitched. "And are you going to write to him?"

"Dunno," Eugene thought it over. "I don't really need the extra credit, but Arnold was an okay guy. Bit of a jinx, though." With a flourish, he twisted the last few noodles on his plate around his fork and swallowed them whole. "Can I be excused now?"

"Yeah, all right. But don't stay up too late reading. You've got school tomorrow."

Eugene made a mad dash for his room and closed the door behind him. "Finally…" he pulled the book to himself, hugging it before opening again …to find that the first chapter had been ripped out.

He just stared at the book for a moment, his finger tracing the jagged edges that still remained, the only evidence that that chapter had ever existed. He flipped through to find that the rest of the book had been scribbled in, notes were made in the margins (most of them quite rude words), and that the ending had been completely blanked over in black magic marker.

He was at a loss for words. Who would do this to a book? What purpose could it possibly serve? He sighed and set it down beside him, before lifting his pillow to his mouth to let out a scream. It muffled it enough that his parents couldn't hear him, but part of him wanted to scream it out loud. He didn't ask much out of life, did it really have to take _this _away from him too?

"There go my plans for the night," he noted after he'd calmed down. Right now, his emotions boiled inside him, mixing together. Everything he'd tried to repress was swirling around in a small storm - his sadness, his anger, his frustration. What had he done to anyone to deserve this?

"It's not fair," he finally decided, hopping up from his bed. "Does anyone have more rotten luck than I do?" He kicked the corner of his nightstand, but instantly regretted it, and clutched his throbbing foot, but hopping around on one leg caused him to loose his balance and fall to the floor. "I'm o--…No. No, I'm not okay," he decided. "This whole thing isn't okay!"

He wanted to scream at all those kids who ignored him or avoided him. He wanted to find whoever had done this to the book and exchange some very angry words. But mostly, he wanted to feel it was okay to talk about things when they…well, _weren't _okay.

He sighed as his anger started to simmer down. "I don't want to bug anyone with it, though…" Without any true motivation, not knowing what exactly was guiding it, Eugene pulled out Arnold's address. "Well, this is the only other thing I was thinking about doing tonight…"

_Dear Arnold,_

_Hey. How are things in San Lorenzo? I'm still so sorry I broke that dam. Did the villagers ever forgive me, or am I still under that lifelong ban? I wouldn't mind too much, to tell you the truth. That place was even more dangerous than here at home. And that's saying something!_

_I have to admit that there's another reason I'm writing you, other than saying hello. I kind of need to vent, and I figure you wouldn't mind. I hope that's all right. If you would mind, then just skip the next paragraph. I just feel like if I don't get it out soon, I'm going to explode._

_High school's a weird place. Sure, all our old friends are still nice to me and talk to me, but they have other hobbies and things to keep them busy, so very few of us hang out together anymore. I spend most of my free time with Lila, but I feel like I can't tell her my problems because she doesn't tell me hers, and I don't want to bring her down. The other kids at school go out of their way never to touch me. They think I'm some sort of jinx, and that if they touch me, it'll rub off on them. Sometimes it bothers me, but I try not to let it upset me. I usually just smile through it, but it'd be nice if I could find some way to make them stop. _

_Anyways, Arnold, I hope to get to hear from you soon. _

_Your pal,_

_~Eugene_

When he finished, Eugene considered what Arnold would do in his situation. He scooped his book up, and checked through it, trying to ignore the graffiti.

"Well," he decided, "It may not be what Arnold would do, but I know what I'm going to do…I can still make out enough of the words to read most of the book. I'm sure I'll find the book somewhere else at some point…"

He dove into the book, setting his hand towards the margins to cover up any unpleasantness that may have been scrawled there. It might not have been the perfect way to end the day, but Eugene felt better about it. He knew very well how to appreciate the small things.

* * *

After Eugene had said goodbye to her, Lila had gone into her apartment and laid down on her couch. She'd finished her homework at school, and her head was throbbing. It felt like every time her heart beat, her head started ringing with the sound.

Part of her wished she'd bothered to tell Eugene what was going on. He'd be understanding about it. He'd seen all the guys that had asked her out, and how much she worried that one of them would react badly to it (for the most part, the boys were accepting of her feelings, but many of them would avoid her afterwards). He hadn't really witnessed the hazing the girls gave her, and as far as she knew, he wasn't aware of it. But he was having such a hard time, she couldn't bring herself to complain about her own situations.

Unlike Eugene, she was perfectly aware of what she was doing when she pulled out the letter to start to Arnold.

_Dear Arnold,_

_I'm terribly sorry to be writing a letter to you for such a selfish purpose, but you're just such a nice person that I believe you'll forgive me._

_School has been pretty rough. Not much of the old gang hangs out anymore, though we all try to make time for each other. But it rarely works out. This would be fine if I could make other friends more easily. It seems people, especially other girls, don't really like me. I try to be just oh so nice to them, Arnold, I really do. I don't know why they don't like me. The guys are very sweet, but they think my being nice to them is because I like them, and don't get me wrong, I like them…but I don't _like_ them like them. _

_I worry about the other kids in our class. Helga only seems to hang out with Phoebe these days, and I'm oh so certain she'd benefit with talking to the rest of us, too, if only she would! Eugene and I spend a lot of time together, but I get the feeling he doesn't want to talk to me about his problems. It's just too sad. _

_But I've just realized I've spent far too terribly long on myself, and really I _am _interested in what's going on with you. Surely San Lorenzo is just beautiful this time of year? The view was breathtaking from that waterfall, though I'm not too terribly certain you noticed, what with you and Helga falling in and all. How are your mom and dad? They were just oh so sweet to all of us, I really hope they're doing well._

_I'm certain you're getting a lot of letters from our classmates. You really are missed, Arnold. You were always a sweet and caring guy. I really liked you. But only liked, you understand. I think almost everyone has written to you, or plans to write to you. Mr. Simmons seems to be enjoying this project just oh so much, he says his smile gets bigger every time someone hands a new letter in to him. _

_Hoping you're well,_

_~Lila_

Lila reviewed the letter, feeling a bit concerned that she'd been rude. She considered tearing it up and replacing it with a much simpler letter, keeping the last two paragraphs and only making vague allusions to how she was doing, but she knew Arnold well enough to know he wouldn't mind. Plus he'd always been sensitive enough to realize when someone was trying to hide something from him (with the possible exception of Helga). Deciding that she'd go for it, she nestled the letter inside an envelope and sealed it shut, setting it on the living room table and just staring at it.

She did feel much better, but it had made her start to question her silence regarding her situation.

"Maybe," she thought aloud, tapping her chin, "The reason Eugene's oh too shy about talking about his problems with me is because I don't tell him about mine?" The epiphany startled her a little. She really tried not to bog others down with her problems, but she realized now that Eugene did the exact same thing. "Sorry, Arnold," she said to the letter, "But I'm just oh so certain I should be calling Eugene right now…but thank you for the help."

She picked up her phone and dialed Eugene. He answered after the first few rings. "Eugene, I'm so sorry for interrupting your book, which I'm sure is just oh so interesting, but I wanted to talk to you about something…"

"Yeah, sure, Lila, what is it?"

"I know you're going through a rough time right now, and I think you know that I am, too. So I want to hear about your problems. Maybe I could help…"


	6. Girl Issues

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the kind reviews, story alerts, and a few author alerts (I've been getting more of those lately, and they make me very happy!) I will respond to all reviews within the next few days. I apologize for taking so long with that and for taking so long with this chapter. And now it's Sid and Stinky! Sid is just so much fun to write, because his main characteristic is that he overreacts to everything. Stinky's fun in his own way, but Sid…man, I love Sid.

"All right…how bout that one?" Sid tried to nonchalantly indicate a girl in line at the cafeteria, but Stinky shook his head.

"I asked _her _already. She done turned me down. Reckon I asked just about every girl in the school."

Sid sighed. "Yeah, me too. Nobody wants to go with me to the Spring formal, either," he sighed and crossed his arms. "Boy howdy, I wish this weren't so tough. You think it's because I'm short?"

"If it's cause you're short, then why am I having problems?" Stinky pointed out.

"Yeah, good point," Sid nodded. "But I thought you were going to ask Lila? Whatever happened to that?"

"Miss Lila's always with Eugene," Stinky sighed. "Reckon they'll be dating any day now."

"I thought they were just friends."

"Don't know," Stinky shrugged. "But they spend so much time together, it sure does seem like they like each other."

"Well, did you try asking Helga?"

"Would _you _ask Helga G. Pataki out?" Stinky turned it around on him. Sid shook his head fervently. "I reckon no one would ask her out…she's nicer than she used to be," he turned his head slightly to the left to watch her at her usual table with Phoebe, Gerald, and Brainy. "But I still wouldn't want to date her, on account of she's still kind of terrifying."

"How 'bout Rhonda?"

"Shot down like a duck in huntin' season. Did you ever ask Ruth?"

"Said she doesn't date sophomores," Sid sighed once more and rested his head on the table, feeling how cool it was against his skin. "Phoebe's taken, Sheena's _still _hung up on Eugene, though we could probably get a pity date out of her…"

"I reckon I don't want to look that pathetic, thank you," Stinky dismissed the idea.

"I haven't tried Nadine yet. Or did you want to?"

"I'm getting pretty tired of being told no. Maybe we should just skip the dance?"

"No way!" Sid insisted. "Everyone's going to be there, and if we don't show up, and with dates, we'll look like total losers."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, do you want to get laughed out of the school? Are you even listening?"

Stinky in fact had stopped listening. He was too focused on eating. "Earth to Stinky!" Sid called, waving a hand in front of his face. "Will you put that lemon pudding down and help me come up with a plan?"

"But I _like _lemon pudding…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You tell me constantly," Sid smacked himself upside the head and slid his own tray towards Stinky. "And you can have mine, if you'll just concentrate for a minute. Now, how do we get dates?"

"By actin' like ourselves and politely asking until somebody says yes?"

Sid considered it. "No! No…maybe we should try something else. What we have right now isn't enough. Maybe if I climbed on your shoulders and we wore a trench coat? Or we could wear sunglasses! Sunglasses make everybody look cool!"

"Except I think they're against school rules. Anyhow, I don't see how a trench coat would help things."

But Sid was on a role. He listed insane plan after insane plan, and inbetween bites of lemon pudding, Stinky would point out the likelihood of those plans working. Finally, Sid ran out of steam.

"Not one stinkin' good idea in the bunch," Sid sighed.

"Well, the Terminator one was at least interestin'," Stinky offered as consolation.

"We need someone with better ideas."

"You mean like Arnold?"

"Of course!" Sid was on his feet now, and he pumped his fist in the air in triumph. "We'll just ask Arnold!"

"That might not work so well, on account of him still being in San Lorenzo. We could write him our letters, but I don't think they'll get there in time for him to offer his opinion."

Sid fell back into his chair dramatically, all the fervor from a moment ago stolen from him. "Aww, man, this stinks. What are we supposed to do now?"

Stinky considered it. "I reckon," He said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I'm gonna go ask Miss Lila to accompany me to the dance before Eugene gets the chance to."

"What are you doing that for?"

"Well, your ideas Sid…they bite. They _really _bite. So I reckon I go for this or I'm going dateless." With that, Stinky made his way across the cafeteria, and pulled up a seat next to Lila. "Hello there, Miss Lila."

"Oh, hello, Stinky. You're ever so welcome to my lemon pudding, if that's what you came for."

He shook his head. "No, Miss Lila, thank you though. What I wanted to know was…was…" He coughed. "Miss Lila, will you do me the honor of goin' to the Spring formal with me?" Lila blinked a few times. "It could just be as friends, if you prefer."

She considered. "Well…I guess so. Yes, that could be just oh so enjoyable, Stinky. I will go with you."

"Great! Oh, and Miss Lila?"

"Yes?"

"Can I still have that lemon pudding?"

Lila laughed. "Of course you can, Stinky," she handed over her tray. Triumphantly, Stinky returned to his and Sid's table.

"I got a date _and _a third helping of lemon pudding," Stinky said, diving into the dessert. "This is a pretty good day."

"Okay, so that worked for you, but…and this is important…**I **STILL DON'T HAVE A DATE!"

"I reckon there are still a few girls you haven't asked out," Stinky suggested, finishing the last bite of his pudding. "Keep tryin' til you get a yes."

Frustrated, Sid hopped on top of the cafeteria table. "IS THERE ANY GIRL HERE, ANY GIRL, WHO DOESN'T HAVE A DATE FOR THE SPRING FORMAL WHO WOULD GO WITH ME?!"

"Geez, have you ever seen anything more pathetic?" Helga said just loudly enough for Sid to hear. He ignored her.

"Well, if it gets him the results he wants, I'd have to commend his bravery," Phoebe responded.

"Yo, Sid, get off the table before it breaks!" Gerald called. "You're gonna get yourself in trouble!"

Sid hopped off the table, not caring that almost everyone in the cafeteria was now staring at him. He stormed off into the hallway, ignoring Stinky calling after him. He wandered aimlessly for a while before accidentally running into Mr. Simmons.

"Oh, hello, Sid. Sorry, I didn't see you there," Mr. Simmons helped him to his feet.

"That's all right. I was just…trying to get away from everyone. Could I come to your room for a bit?"

"I don't know, Sid…the next period bell's going to ring soon…"

"Please?" Sid pleaded, his eyes widening in an attempt to make himself look more sympathetic.

"Oh…all right. But if you come to my classroom you have to work. I don't have any students this period, but I have things I need to do…do you have homework in another class you can work on?"

"No." It was a lie. He had tons of other homework, but he didn't feel like doing it right now.

"Well, have you written to Arnold yet?" Sid shook his head. "Then I guess you'll do that. Come on…"

_Well_, Sid thought, _it beats sitting with everyone after what I just did in the cafeteria…_ he followed Simmons and took his normal chair when they got into the room.

"Mr. Simmons, what should I write? What did the other kids write about?"

"I wouldn't know. I wouldn't violate their privacy like that, and I won't violate yours," Mr. Simmons picked up a cup of coffee of his desk and sipped intermittently as he spoke. "Just whatever comes from the heart. You know Arnold. You know what he'd like to hear about."

"Yeah, I guess…"

_Hey, Arnold,_

_Boy howdy, how long has it been? A few years, at least. Not too much has changed. More interested in girls now, but they don't really give me the time of day, so I guess it doesn't count._

_Normally I'd ask you for advice, but since you're not here I'll skip that part. Stinky got a date before I did. With Lila! You remember Lila, don't you? You know, the girl you had a huge crush on who never liked you liked you, she only liked you? Oh. Sorry, I guess you probably do. _

_Everyone's taller than me, and it seems like they're growing up faster than me too. I don't know. At least I stopped carving people out of soap in order to curse them, and it's been months since I've accused anyone of being a werewolf or a vampire. _

_So, how are you doing? _

_~Sid_

He glanced up at Simmons's desk to make sure he wasn't being watched after he finished the letter. He stared up at the clock, thinking things over. It's not like there were any girls he was particularly interested in. He just wanted a date so he wouldn't look like a loser.

He sighed, hearing a voice in his head point out that there was nothing wrong with going to a dance dateless, that it was about having a good time. The voice sounded suspiciously like Arnold's to him, but obviously that was impossible.

"I guess I could ask Nadine to go as friends, and if she turns me down…oh well."

When the bell rang, he shot from his desk and searched the busy hallways. Thankfully for him, Nadine's hair made her easy to locate. "Yo, Nadine!"

"Yeah?" She and Rhonda both stopped.

"Look, would you go to the spring formal with me? It's not as a date, it's just as friends. I just would rather not go alone. If you don't want to go, I'm fine with that."

Nadine and Rhonda exchanged glances. "If it's as friends…" Nadine started.

"And _only _as friends," Rhonda added. "You're really not up to Nadine's level."

"Just as friends," Sid insisted. Nadine nodded her agreement. "Yes! I don't have to go by myself! I gotta go tell Stinky, he'll flip! Bye girls, and thanks!"

* * *

_Dear Arnold,_

_I got myself a date with Miss Lila to the upcoming dance. Sid's going with Nadine. Reckon he's even happier about it than I am, on account of he won't shut up about it. _

_How's San Lorenzo? I didn't like the lack of lemon pudding over there. No lemon puddin is bad enough, no pudding at all is just plain weird. Well, it was nice talking to you Arnold, even if it wasn't really talking. _

_~Stinky_


	7. Obsessions

**Author's Note: **Grandpa will show up later, but he's not getting a chapter anymore. Same for the boarders and Grandma. Sorry. I will be starting a new job Monday, and between that and my son, I won't have much time for writing so I want to finish as many stories before then as possible. **One Fine Wire **had a brilliant suggestion for Iggy that I wish I could have executed, but I can't get a handle on his character and I hate feeling like I'm being out of character. I'm sorry! It was a great idea, I wish I knew how to handle it. Sheena doesn't get a chapter because I just couldn't come up with a problem for her. If I'd have been smart, I would have put her in the chapter with Lila and Eugene, but I'm an airhead.

_Dear Arnold,_

_Hey, buddy, did you hear about me and Rhonda? We're dating. I bet she didn't tell you in her letter. I can explain that - she doesn't exactly know just yet. But it'll happen soon, maybe even by the end of the day. I'm wearing her down! She can't run forever._

_School's all right. I was blocked when I attempted to run for our year's president, then again for vice president, secretary, treasurer…someone apparently told the principal I shouldn't really be trusted with power. Can you believe that? _

_I don't know why everyone complained so much in San Lorenzo. I thought it was liberating! (I know, I know, wearing the loincloth was going a little far, but I'll have you know it was more than I first considered wearing). Say hi to your dad for me. He was a pretty cool guy. How are you doing? _

_~Curly_

* * *

"Have you considered…moving on?" Nadine had cornered Curly and was slowly edging him away from Rhonda's locker so that Rhonda could swoop in and grab her books without being accosted. "Rhonda's turned you down…several times --"

"It's somewhere in the high thousands, I think," Curly said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "But she can only say no so many times."

Nadine shook her head. "I don't think so, Curly. You always get the same answer. Why do you keep trying?"

"Because I want to be with her."

Nadine glanced back at Rhonda, who was firmly shaking her head. "That's really sweet, Curly, but she can't help it if she doesn't feel that way about you. Wouldn't you be happier chasing a girl you stand a chance with?"

Curly smiled. "It's not about who I have a chance with. It's about who I want to be with. I want to be with Rhonda."

When the bell rang, he walked off, heading for his next class. Nadine shook her head. "Well, you have to admire his dedication, at any rate, right, Rhonda?" She glanced around. Rhonda had taken advantage of the situation and snuck off to her next class while Nadine and Curly had been talking.

"I doubt anyone could be as crazy about someone as Curly is about Rhonda…" she said to herself.

* * *

"Hand me that, would you, Brainy?" Helga asked. Obediently, he handed her back her pen. She started writing, then glanced up when she noticed he was still hovering over her desk. "Criminy, what do you want? I'm busy here!" She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Thank you, Brainy. Is that what you wanted?"

He blinked.

"Listen, bub, either tell me what you want or go away. I have work to do, I can't just let you distract me. So what do you want?"

He wheezed. "Nothing." Another wheeze.

Helga growled, about to punch him when she spotted the teacher out of the corner of her eye. She steadied her fist but made a mental note to catch up to him later and sock him a good one.

But he just stood there and watched her. She knew he wanted to say something, but she couldn't riddle out exactly what it was. "Did you…" he paused and let out yet another wheeze. "Write to him yet?"

"Write to who?" Helga snapped.

"You know. Him."

"None of your beeswax. Go sit down before I sock you," she kept an eye on the teacher. Unfortunately for Helga, the teacher was doing the same to her. There would be no openings to hit Brainy.

Technically, Brainy obliged her request. Just not in the way Helga would have liked. Rather than going to his own desk and sitting down, he plopped down into the free one beside her. "But did you write to him?" He asked again.

"Shut up and go away." Helga hissed.

"Are you going to?"

"Still not any of your business…"

"Helga! Brainy!" The teacher stood over Helga's desk. "Have you two finished your assignments yet?" Helga shook her head. "Then I suggest you work on that, rather than talking."

Helga pursed her lips and gave a Brainy a poisonous look. The only affect it seemed to have on him was that he merely returned to his own seat. When the bell rang, he caught up to her. "Well?" He breathed in and wheezed out. "Did you write him?"

"No, I didn't. And it's still none of your business. First you bug me to send that poem out for publishing, which was weird enough, and now this. What is your _deal_?"

Brainy considered the question. It really wasn't an easy one to explain. He'd had feelings for Helga since they'd been three, but he'd never made a move. A few people had even asked him why he didn't just ask her out now that Arnold was out of the picture, but they were missing something. Arnold was still very much in Hillwood.

Sure, he wasn't there physically, but the memory of him was fresh in everyone's mind. Though she went out of her way never to mention him, Helga was especially still hung up on Arnold, and Brainy wasn't keen on the idea of being a second choice. Plus, he figured if he could get her to deal with her feelings, maybe she would be less fascinating to him, and he could finally move on himself, maybe even onto a girl who would return his affections.

But he wasn't the well spoken type, and so all that he muttered was as a soft "Nothing," and another awkward wheeze.

Helga punched him in the nose and then stormed off. He picked up his now ruined glasses and tossed them in the trash before retrieving an extra pair from a case in his pants and putting those on instead.

* * *

_Hey Arnold,_

_It's me, Brainy. How are you? When are you coming back to Hillwood? She needs to see you again._

_~Brainy_

* * *

A few weeks after the project had started and everyone who had known Arnold, with the exception of Helga, had written to him, the box containing all the letters arrived at San Lorenzo. Arnold sat on the steps leading up to the medical hut, pouring over them. "Whatcha got there?" Miles sat down next to his son and brushed some of the dirt off his shorts. "Letters?"

"Yeah. My old classmates have been writing to me," Arnold explained. "They got my old teacher, Mr. Simmons, again and he said he'd give them extra credit."

"I'm sure they didn't just write you for the credit," Miles said, ruffling his son's hair. Arnold nodded.

"Yeah, I know…"

Stella had emerged from the hut and she sat down between Arnold and Miles. "With that many friends, why do you look so upset? Missing them?" Arnold nodded.

Miles glanced up at Stella and shook his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say there was another reason for it…any letter from a certain girl?"

"Oh, right, the cute one with the bow and one eyebrow!" Stella added in. Arnold shook his head. "What, she didn't write you?"

"She's the only one who didn't."

"Maybe she moved?" Miles offered. Arnold shook his head again.

"Couldn't have. Phoebe, Gerald, and some of the others all mentioned her in their letters. Brainy's just said 'she', but I'm pretty sure he meant Helga," Arnold coughed, wondering if he should show his parents the poem Helga had written.

"Miles, could you go deliver that extra medicine for me?" Stella asked it so suddenly, Miles gave her a bewildered look, wondering what the sudden change of subject was for. She glanced at Arnold, and then back to her husband. Cottoning on, he nodded.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right back," he ducked inside and grabbed the medicine, then took off. Stella scooted closer to her son and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him in closer. She was still so thankful to have a teenager who didn't mind his mom showing him affection, and she figured if they were alone he might open up.

"So what's upsetting you?"

"It's nothing," Arnold looked away, trying not to make eye contact. Without his mom having to utter another word of persuasion, he broke. "Okay, well…it's like this. Phoebe sent a poem with her letter, and it's pretty obvious that it's one of Helga's poems and it seems like it's talking about me, and …I don't know. I think she might still like me."

"Hmmm," Stella gave him a half hug. "I notice that any time a girl flirts with you you either ignore it or don't return it…is no one interesting you, or do _you _still like Helga?"

"I don't know. It was all really sudden. We weren't together very long before I decided to stay with you guys here."

"If she loves you, she'll forgive you for that." A few moments passed in silence as Arnold considered the wisdom of his mother's words. He really didn't know why he never felt anything towards the girls he met these days. He thought a few were cute, and some had great personalities, but in the end all he could think about was how they were different from Helga, and how much that bothered him. His mom interrupted his thoughts "Anyways, I see your dad coming back, so I guess the conversation's over…"

"Have a nice chat?" Miles asked. Arnold nodded.

"Oh yes," Stella insisted. "The thing is, we haven't finished the conversation."

"No? Do I need to go so you can wrap it up?"

"No, Miles…I think it's time."

Miles smirked. "I thought it might be."

Arnold stared at his parents, bewildered. "Time for what?"

"I think," Miles repeated, grabbing Stella's hand and then placing his free hand on Arnold's shoulder, "That it's time for us to go home to Hillwood."

**More important author's note: **The next chapter goes back to a few weeks before the letters reach Arnold. This is important for you to know.


	8. Return

"Did she write to Arnold yet?" Gerald asked Phoebe, leaning forward so Helga wouldn't hear them. They were all riding the bus together, since Phoebe had requested that Helga come with them on the date, citing that Helga felt really lonely these days (not that she would ever admit that). Phoebe and Gerald sat together on one side of the aisle while Helga sat across from them, her backpack blocking anyone from taking the seat next to her.

"I don't believe she has," Phoebe said, shrugging. She didn't want Gerald to get involved in this. She cared dearly for her boyfriend and her best friend, and it didn't help that the two could be at odds with each other, sometimes over petty things.

"I'm asking her," Gerald decided, and before Phoebe could voice her objections, he was leaning over the bus aisle, directing his question in at Helga, "Yo! You written to Arnold yet?"

"Not any of your business, Geraldo," she muttered, crossing her arms and sinking back to the seat. _Sheesh, not _him_, too. Bad enough Brainy was trying to talk to me about it…_

"It's just a question, Helga. Did you write to him or not?" She looked away from him and stared out the bus window, trying to ignore him. "I'm talking to you, Helga G. Pataki, you could answer me."

"Gerald, I don't think this is the best way to go about this," Phoebe suggested.

Helga hopped up when the driver stopped. "I'm heading home. I'll catch you later, Pheebs. Have fun with Tall Hair Boy."

But Gerald wasn't letting the argument go. He stood up, grabbed Phoebe by the hand and practically dragged her as he followed Helga. He finally caught up to her two blocks later, at her house. Rather than wait for the door to be slammed in his face, he slipped inside, Phoebe right behind him, before Helga had the chance to even close the door.

"Criminy, and now you're coming in my house without permission! I oughta have you arrested! Phoebe, show him out, would you?" Helga asked before heading upstairs to her room. Once more, Gerald bounded after her, and feeling like she needed to come before Helga killed him, Phoebe followed suit.

"No. You are not going to keep doing this," Gerald said as he entered Helga's room. His eyes narrowed in on the picture of Arnold sitting beside her bed on the nightstand. He scooped it up, ignoring both Phoebe and Helga's sounds of protest. "You kept this…clearly you still like him. Why haven't you written to him? I'm his best friend, I know how he always got about girls, he's probably worried something happened to you, or that you're mad at him, and you're not being fair to him. Would it kill you to just write a letter?"

"…You should show him," Phoebe said quietly. Helga shook her head. "Helga…show him…or I will."

Helga sighed. "Fine, double team me," she crossed to her closet and set a hand on the door. "You want me to write him a letter, eh, Geraldo?" she pushed the closet door back and a pile cascaded to the floor. Gerald stared in wonder as he realized that they were letters, piles of them, numbering at least in the hundreds. Many were sealed in envelopes, though the only thing written on the outside was "Arnold". A few letters hadn't been sealed away yet.

"I've been writing Arnold since the day we got back from San Lorenzo," Helga explained. "I still write poetry about him, I still think about him all the time…I can't get the football-headed freak out of my mind. I keep trying, and you know what, Gerald? It stinks!" she punched her wall as though to make her point. "I got him for an _hour_. Can you imagine only being with Pheebs for an hour and then having her say 'oh, by the way, I'm staying here in this piece of crap place with my parents, and I'm never going to see you again.'?"

"I…hadn't thought of it that way," Gerald admitted.

"Of course you didn't," Helga rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you mail any of these off?" Gerald tried.

"So what? So I can find out he found a girlfriend out there and he thinks I'm pathetic for still feeling this way about him? He hasn't written to me, or called me, or visited me once…"

"The calling rate's really high," Gerald pointed out, "He's only called me a few times…"

"Yeah," Helga nodded, "But you still got a call."

Gerald didn't know how to respond. He glanced at Phoebe, who merely had a somber "I tried to warn you" sort of face. She shook her head. "In light of the circumstances, Gerald, I'm afraid I must cancel our date. Helga, is it all right if I spend the night?"

"Miriam's at her meeting most of the night and Big Bob's out on some stupid business trip. Don't know where Olga went…don't really care…so it should be fine…you know, if you want to stay over."

"Of course I do," Phoebe insisted. "Gerald, I'll see you later, all right?" Gerald nodded.

"Yeah…umm…I'm sorry about all that, Helga. I'll see you around," he gave Phoebe a peck on the cheek.

"I don't think Helga should be alone tonight. Don't worry. She'll be all right," Phoebe whispered in his ear when he got close enough. He let himself out of the house, slightly shaken up. He'd had his suspicions about how Helga felt, but he hadn't expected _that_.

* * *

"_I spent last night chasing shadows,_

_Echoing through a dream I've had too many times to count._

_A memory of a day long ago, torturous questions of what might have been_

_I'd banish these thoughts from my mind,_

_If only I could be sure I didn't imagine them."_

"What do you think the author of this poem was trying to say?" Mr. Simmons asked when he finished.

"Maybe that you should start reading us professional poetry instead of other kids'?" Helga said sharply, her eyes narrowed hatefully at the paper Mr. Simmons had read off. She hated that he continued to read her poetry out loud, even if he did so anonymously.

"I thought it was confusing," Harold tried, scratching his head. "It didn't rhyme, and why would you chase a shadow?"

"It's not literal, Harold," Rhonda interjected, sighing. "Obviously the writer's very in love with some guy and can't stop thinking about him."

"And what makes you so sure a girl wrote it?" Harold demanded. Rhonda rolled her eyes, but before she could make another retort, a knock came at the door.

"Oh, I wonder if it's a new student," Mr. Simmons questioned aloud. He opened the door and just stood there for a moment. After he got over the initial shock, he leaned back inside his classroom. "Class! Wonderful news!"

"No homework for the rest of the week?" Harold suggested.

"No homework for the rest of the semester?" Sid added.

"Better than that!" Mr. Simmons insisted.

"Not likely," Stinky muttered. Sid laughed.

"Look who came back!" Mr. Simmons came back in the classroom, a blonde male following behind him. Not much had changed about Arnold - he still wore his blue cap, his hair was the same style as before, he'd only changed his shirt to a sweater vest over his old yellow-striped red shirt. He had grown taller, but he was still only average height, and so shorter than many of his classmates.

"Hey, guys," Arnold gave an awkward wave, glancing around the class.

"Arnold, my man!" Gerald had bounded out of his seat and he and Arnold gave their old signature handshake. "When did you get back in town?"

"Last night. I would have called, but Grandpa, Grandma and the boarders all wanted to get caught up with me."

"Arnold, why don't you take the open seat in front of Helga?" Mr. Simmons suggested. Helga tensed before turning her attention to the window, refusing to make eye contact with Arnold, though he saw that whenever she thought he wasn't looking, she'd steal a glance his way.

He obliged and took the seat as his old classmates crowded around him, many fighting to get in closer to him. "How was the jungle?" Sid asked.

"Probably about the same as you guys remember it. Dangerous, but fun."

"Fun is _not _how I would describe it," Rhonda sniffed.

"Did you get our letters, Arnold?" Stinky asked. Arnold nodded.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for writing them. I was really happy to get them, and some of them were even kind of," he stole a glance at Curly, "funny, I guess."

"I was oh so terribly certain I'd complained too much in mine," Lila confessed. "You're just ever so sweet not to be bothered by it."

Arnold laughed. "No, they really made me feel like I was still here."

"Listening to our problems and fixing them for us," Gerald said, crossing his arms. "Mm-mm-mm. But it doesn't matter, because now you're back…but how long are you here for?"

Before he could answer, the bell rang. Arnold attempted to get up, to follow Helga (who had grabbed her books and made a mad dash for the door), but the others were still crowding him. "Hey, Arnold, what's your next class?" Sid asked.

"I haven't officially enrolled, I'm just looking around today," Arnold answered politely, though his attention was still focused on locating Helga. He gave several 'excuse me's as he snaked his way through the group, pushing his way out into the hall, but wherever Helga had gone to, she was completely out of sight.

"She has P.E. next."

"Huh?" Arnold glanced behind him to see Phoebe and Gerald, both giving him knowing looks.

Phoebe continued. "Helga. She's at P.E. It's an all girls' class, so you won't be able to see her, but after that she has U.S. History Honors. You can see her then, if you want."

"I'm starting to think she doesn't want to see me. Why'd she run off like that?" Phoebe shrugged. "But she's the only one who didn't write me anything…is she mad at me?"

Gerald scratched his head as he scuffed the floor with his shoe. "Yeah, she's…" he thought back to her in her room, just a few weeks ago. _I still think about him all the time…I can't get the football-headed freak out of my mind. I keep trying, and you know what, Gerald? It stinks! _"Yeah, she's kind of mad."

"I suspect it might be hard for her to talk to you," Phoebe added.

"Well, I'll just have to keep trying," Arnold decided. "You said the class after this one I can sit in on?"

"Glad to see you still look on the bright side of things," Gerald laughed. "You are one bold kid, Arnold."

* * *

Arnold spent the rest of the day bouncing to classes Helga was in. She continued to ignore him. At lunch time he tried to take the seat next to her; she got up and went into the bathroom until lunch was over. Any time he got within a few feet of her, she acted like he was invisible, but still he could feel her eyes on him whenever he looked away.

"Have you ever seen anything more pathetic?" Rhonda asked as she watched Arnold attempting to talk to Helga before she got on the bus and let the door slam in his face.

"I reckon I haven't," Stinky said, shaking his head. "What's her deal for, anyhow? I thought she really liked Arnold."

"I'm ever so certain she still does," Lila said, sitting down at the table to continue the discussion. The old gang was all back together again, for the first time in years. Arnold stood at the edge of the group, not listening, his eyes focused on the direction the bus had gone. "Poor Arnold. He looks ever so sad…"

"We could try cheering him up with spirited show tunes!" Eugene suggested.

"No, Eugene. That won't work," Gerald insisted. "And we told you no singing."

"I still think this occasion calls for it," Eugene said, though he didn't seem the least bit put down.

"Concentrate, people," Rhonda said, knocking on the table.

"But I'm _hungry_," Harold complained.

"You're _always _hungry, you big ox!" she rolled her eyes and handed him a granola bar from her purse. He wolfed it down. "Now, can we continue?" he nodded. "Good. What do we do about this?"

"Why do you care?" Nadine asked. "I know Arnold's our friend, but it seems kind of weird for you to be so insistent on helping him."

"He's done a lot for us," Gerald answered on Rhonda's behalf. "He's always been there for us. Who here hasn't had a time they really needed help, and Arnold helped you? Who's the one kid who'd go out of his way for you, no matter how you treated him?"

"Pea Pod Kid?" Curly suggested blankly.

"No, you dummy," Harold said, smacking him on the back of the head. "He's talking about Arnold. …I think? It is about Arnold, right?"

His question went ignored.

"So what do we do to help him?" Sheena asked. "It's not like we can force Helga to talk to him."

"Says you," Curly snorted. "I've got plenty of rope at home, if we all ganged up on her--" he stopped when everyone started staring at him. "What? I collect rope. There's nothing weird about that!"

"What if we just sort of trick her into it?" Sid suggested.

"Like how?" Rhonda asked.

"If I might interject," Phoebe let out a small cough to get everyone's attention. "I think I might have a plan."


	9. The Power of Suggestion

**Author's Note: **Sorry! I've started a new job, I've been doing a lot of running around and I'm trying to keep up with several different message boards at once and I've been studying (work requires training, training requires a test-happy teacher who expects a minimum of 85 percent on most tests, 100 percent on others, so please don't be too mad at me).

The gang (of course, with the exclusion of Helga) had all gone over to the Sunset Arms Boarding House in order for Phoebe to fully elaborate on her plan. "Well, you all look determined today," Stella noted.

Miles nodded his agreement, but he backed away instinctively at the sight of Nadine. She giggled.

"It's okay, I didn't bring any of my spiders with me today!"

"Oh. That's great," he let out a sigh of relief. Stella rolled her eyes at her husband, even though she was smiling. "Stella's right, though, what exactly are you kids up to?…Or young adults, I should say?"

"And where's that one little girl friend of yours, Arnold? I thought you were really looking forward to seeing her?" Stella asked as the color rose in Arnold's cheeks.

"Helga won't talk to me," Arnold was embarrassed, of course, but he was also too polite to tell his parents he felt they were becoming too invasive. "Anyways, do you mind if we all go up to my room? We've got some things we've got to go over."

"Shortman's got a plan!" Phil and Gertie had both come out of the kitchen, the latter wearing a mixing bowl on her head.

"Grandma, what are you --" Arnold started to ask, then shook his head. "You know what? I don't wanna know. We're going up to my room now, okay?" he repeated. The others followed him up. The room was decorated exactly how Arnold had left it. Phil and Gertie simply hadn't had the heart to change it or rent it out. He clicked the remote so that the couch would flip out from the wall then dragged a few chairs from out of his closet. "Some of us will have to sit on the bed," he said apologetically.

When they all settled in, Phoebe started. "All right, so, we all know that Helga's not really someone we can force to do anything --"

"Why does no one take my rope suggestion seriously?" Curly asked.

"Because it's illegal, you freak," Rhonda snapped.

"As I was saying, what I would like to suggest is merely applying pressure to the situation, mainly through the use of suggestive stimuli," Phoebe continued as though she hadn't been interrupted.

"Huh?" Harold asked. "Stimu…whaty?"

"Well, the easier parts about it will be everyone engaging Helga in conversation," Phoebe elaborated, "And making certain Arnold is brought up in the conversation. She's uh…having a hard time forgetting about him in the first place. It's probably just as hard on her not talking to him as it would be to talk to him. We simply need to push her in the opposite direction. Gently, though."

"So all of us swamp her and start spamming her with the idea of Arnold?" Sid asked. Phoebe shook her head.

"No, some of us will be on the stimuli side. Different things that would remind her of Arnold."

"I don't know, Phoebe. It seems kind of mean to force her into this," Arnold sighed. "Maybe I should just leave her alone and talk to her when she's ready?"

"Please. Helga's so stubborn she may force herself never to talk to you," Rhonda shook her head. "And then she'll take her anger out on us and _you_ will get all sad and mopey on us."

"Rhonda's right, Arnold. Don't you want to work things out?" Gerald asked.

"I guess, Gerald, but it still seems kind of wrong."

Phoebe remained silent, but she did agree with Arnold. It was a rather mean plan to force Helga to think of Arnold when all she'd done the past few years was try to forget about him. But Helga had proven time and time again she _couldn't _forget Arnold, so Phoebe felt it was necessary. The two needed to talk things out. If this was the only way, so be it.

* * *

"Please, Mr. Simmons?" Nadine, Sheena, Lila, and Rhonda all chorused at once, their hands clasped together as they widened their eyes. Class would start in ten minutes, and they needed his cooperation to start the plan.

"I…I don't know girls, a whole day on love poems? Where would I get the material?"

"What about our anonymous poet? Don't they have some poems you haven't read yet?" Sheena suggested.

"Well, yes, but…we really are supposed to be working on mystery stories…That's our unit, that's what I told the school board I'd be teaching you right now."

"It's just one day, Mr. Simmons, and I'm ever so certain we'll all work even harder on our detective unit if you'll just please allow us this," Lila tried.

Mr. Simmons bit his lip as he examined his study plan. "Well…all right, but I'm warning you girls, this is going to be hard to make up. You'll have to read two different short stories in one night!" Mr. Simmons didn't realize how little he was asking of them. The girls all shared looks and smiled.

"That'll be fine, Mr. Simmons," Nadine agreed. "Just fine."

They all scooted into their desks as the bell rang and kids filed in, all of them pushing past Helga so she'd be the last one in the class. She glared at the few who'd almost knocked her over, then had to hold back a groan when she realized the only empty desk was the one beside Arnold. She sighed and took her seat, making a big show of looking in the opposite direction of Arnold.

"All right, class, as a special req--" Mr. Simmons had started to mention that the girls had requested it, but he noticed Rhonda and Nadine shaking their heads, and he realized they didn't want the class to know why he was doing this. "Well, anyways, today we're going to have a special day that's only love poems. Isn't that just wonderful, class?"

"It certainly is," Rhonda muttered, giving Phoebe the thumbs up sign.

"This one is from our own special anonymous poet," Mr. Simmons picked the paper up. Arnold glanced over at Helga and noticed she looked like she was trying to claw at her desk, her expression a mixture of livid and embarrassed.

_Summer's green grass embodied in those eyes,_

_Those glowing orbs which emote every feeling_

_His hair of gold summer's brightest day_

_That smile is every warm feeling I've ever had_

She seemed to sigh in relief when it was over. "You said it was love poem _day_," Eugene pointed out, "Can we hear another?" He was waving his hand so enthusiastically he fell out of his desk. "I'm okay!"

"Well, I have another one from our anonymous poet. Should I read that?" Most of the class chorused a 'yes'. Helga sunk so far into her chair that Arnold could hardly see her face anymore.

_The tears fall, but there's no one to wipe them away_

_I break, but no one helps me pick up the pieces_

_I fall, no one helps me back up again._

_A day without you seems impossible._

_A year goes by, and I think the world may end._

_The years pass and fade, but your face_

_Remains crystal clear in my mind_

_I trace the days, the memories_

_I play our first kiss over and over again -_

_Our first and last._

_The radio croons songs of lost love,_

_I cry over you._

_Someone wears the same cologne,_

_My mind tricks me into thinking you're there._

_If I could banish these thoughts,_

_Forget these images,_

_No matter how painful,_

_I'd want them to remain in my heart._

"Now, class, what do you think this poet meant?" Mr. Simmons asked. "Yes, Arnold?"

"I think they really miss someone, to the point where it hurts them. But they're still glad they knew them, because hurting like that is better than having never been with them at all."

"Very good," Mr. Simmons nodded. "It seems like a very special 'better to have loved then lost, then never to have loved at all'."

"But if it hurts them how can you be glad about it?" Harold demanded.

"Yeah," Sid chorused. "I mean, if it hurts you that much you'd be better off forgetting about it."

"I'm with Pink Boy and the munchkin," Helga added, jerking her thumb in Harold's direction. "This poem sounds crazy."

Phoebe made eye contact with Helga, her look knowing. _Yeah, yeah, Pheebs. We both know I wrote it, but you know just as well as I do that it sounds like a crazy person. Besides_, she stole a glance at Arnold, _I'm not going to talk to him, no matter what. It's about time I stopped being so hung up on him. _

"I thought it was beautiful," Arnold shrugged. "The poet's really talented. I wish I knew who they were."

It took every last bit of determination in Helga's body to stop herself from swooning. Sure, he didn't know he was complimenting her, but he _was _complimenting her. She slapped herself, forcing herself out of her reverie.

"It sounds really familiar," Nadine coughed, trying to get the plan on track. "I mean," she purposefully glanced at Helga, who glowered, "I think we all know a person like that, that had someone they loved who then moved away from them."

"Or stayed in a jungle," Rhonda muttered in Helga's direction.

"Watch it, Princess," Helga hissed back.

"Oh, my, well, it seems we're out of time, but it was a very special way to spend the day," Mr. Simmons ended the class right as the bell started ringing. "I hope you all have a wonderful day!"

Helga once more took off so that Arnold couldn't talk to her, but this time Sheena gave him the thumbs up signal. "Rhonda and I have our P.E. class with her, and Rhonda has a plan for it."

"Oh. Okay, great," Arnold said. "I guess I'll just go with Gerald to Art, then."

* * *

"No way, I don't think we'll be doing that. Today's a volleyball day," Trish insisted.

"But coach," Rhonda pleaded, "This is to help Helga…you know, your maid of honor at your second wedding?"

"All right, have it your way," Trish conceded, setting her volleyball down on the bench. She'd always had a soft spot when it came to Helga G Pataki, most likely because she saw so much of herself in Helga. "Really, I've never seen you girls _want _to play --" She waved at Helga when she came in. "Runnin' a little late there, Pataki. I expect better from you."

"Sorry, coach," Helga apologized, starting to grab for the volleyball. Trish shook her head.

"Change in plans. Looks like we're playing football today."

"Football?" Helga groaned. It wasn't that she couldn't play. She'd been good at football for years now, and it's not like she'd stopped playing completely after Arnold left, but even looking at that stupid football made her think of that stupid football shaped head of his… _Criminy, what is going _on _today? First a stupid poetry day and now _this_? _She was starting to suspect that something was going on, but she didn't have time to break it down. Nadine had passed her the ball.

She was drenched in sweat by the time the class had ended, and she was the only one who wasn't sore or bruised (she'd tackled every girl in the class, including the ones on her own team. She'd apologized, but she wasn't all that sorry. She could tell something was going on, and she didn't like feeling like she was being ganged up on).

The rest of the day went like that. The cologne she'd smelled on Arnold when he'd gotten close enough to her seemed to waft towards her no matter how far away she was, at lunch Phoebe had brought her some ice cream, and at the end of the day either she had hallucinated, or she'd spotted Abner running through the halls. Plus it seemed like everyone she'd had Mr. Simmons class with in 4th grade was cutting her off in the halls to mention how sad Arnold was that he wasn't talking to her, or to bring up a time Arnold had helped them or in the more devious cases to talk football with her.

"Criminy, can't I go one day where something doesn't remind me of him?" she considered, "Or just a few minutes, in today's case…Something's going on with those guys, and somehow it involves Arnold. Well jokes on all of you," she called to what appeared to be an empty hall, "Because just talking to me about him is not somehow going to make me feel bad about ignoring him!"

She heard breathing behind her. She turned around to see Brainy, his hand extended, his palm closed tightly around something he clearly expected her to take from him. "What is it?" she asked. He didn't answer. Sighing, she extended her own hand, palm up and allowed him to set her old locket there. "When did you…how did you get this?" she asked through gritted teeth. She no longer carried the locket on her person these days, and she was certain she'd left it at home on her nightstand, but here Brainy was, holding it…

"You should talk to him. He misses you," Brainy wheezed out.

"Who told him to do that?" Arnold asked from around the corner the whole group was hiding behind.

"Nobody, the freak is deviating from the plan," Rhonda shrugged. "I don't know what the deal with that locket is."

"I thought freak was your pet name for _me_," Curly whined.

"Keep dreaming, weirdo," Rhonda snorted, turning her attention back to Helga. "But the question is, is she going to take the bait?"

"Hmm…it seems to me she doesn't look angry," Phoebe noted, studying Helga's stance carefully, "she seems to be considering something. However, I suggest we all agree not to tell her we had anything to do with this. After all, I don't think any of us want to be on Helga's bad side."

They all nodded their agreement, but in the moment they looked away, they didn't see Abner running straight for Helga. They did, however, hear her cry of "You stupid pig, I'm going to make bacon outta you!" as she gave chase to him. "I knew somebody let you loose here, and when I find out who's been doing this to me all day they're going to answer to 'Ol Betsy' and the 'Five Avengers'!"

Phoebe bit her lip. "It seems I had a slight oversight with my plan…"

"I knew this was a bad idea. Thanks for all your help, guys," Arnold said, running off.

"Arnold, man, where are you going?" Gerald called after him.

"I've gotta save Abner, and then I'm going to try to get Helga to talk to me! I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Mmm-mm-mm. All these years, and he's still a bold kid," Gerald said, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

"Yeah. Helga's gonna kill him, though," Sid pointed out.

"Maybe," Gerald shrugged. "But then again…if anyone can actually calm down Helga G. Pataki and make her see reason, it's Arnold."


	10. Like Yesterday

**Author's note: **Wow. I'm actually updating. Keep in mind I have a full time job and a baby, so it's natural updates have slowed down. Thank you for your patience!

When Arnold finally reached Helga outside the school, she was down on her hands and knees in the grass, trying to force something out of Abner's mouth. "Let go of it you stupid pig!" she cried as she leaned back with all of her might, finally victorious in grabbing the mystery item away. Abner squealed and ran off, apparently irked that he'd lost the game of tug-of-war.

Arnold watched in silence as she desperately wiped the glass of the locket Brainy had handed her earlier off with her shirt, trying to clean it up. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized Abner hadn't cracked the screen. "Helga? What is that?"

Helga gulped and deposited the locket quickly down the front of her shirt. "Nothing, no big deal, nothing to see here, nope!" she shook her head. Arnold resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What do you want, anyways? Haven't you realized I want you to leave me alone, Football Head?" she was still seated in the grass, and Arnold took the spot next to her. They both sat in silence for a while, but Arnold took the fact that she didn't ask him to leave (or demand it of him) as a good sign.

"Can we talk?"

"It's a free country, do whatever you want."

"I'm sorry."

Helga picked a nearby flower and started to fiddle with its petals. "What are _you _sorry for?"

"I never called you. Never wrote to you…I'm so sorry about all that. I wanted to, but …" he bit his lip. He wasn't certain she'd be able to see the reason behind his actions, but if he didn't tell her, there would be no way for her to know. "I thought if I called you that you might waste your time being hung up on me when I didn't even know if I'd ever make it back to you. I thought by not calling you, I was doing the right thing. Letting you go, even though it really hurt."

"Is that why you didn't write to me either?"

Arnold nodded.

"Jokes on you, Arnoldo. Not only did it not work, it drove me freaking _crazy_. Do you know how annoying it is to be so in love with someone who's half way around the world with no idea if they still feel the same way about you? With no idea who's with them?"

"I do, actually."

Helga gave him a blank look before cottoning on. "You mean to tell me you didn't find some perfect girl out there in the jungle?"

"There were some girls who showed interest," Arnold admitted, "But they weren't anything like you. I've never met someone so able to take care of themselves, who's as tough as you are and as loving."

"Me? Loving? You've got brain damage."

"No, it's true!" Arnold insisted. "Those poems Mr. Simmons wrote today - weren't those yours?" Helga shook her head. "Don't lie to me, Helga. There's no secret left to protect anymore. I know you like me."

"Maybe," she plucked one of the petals of her flower off, allowing it to float away on the breeze.

"And I'm still in love with you," Arnold finished.

Every part of Helga wanted to jump up and kiss him at that point. But Helga G. Pataki was still not the kind of girl who acted like everything was all right just because a guy told her he loved her. "Yeah, well, the ship has sailed, Buck-o."

"Why?"

"Why?" Helga repeated incredulously, "Because you left me to stay in that stupid jungle once and we'll have what, a week together before you do it all over again? I think I've cried enough over you."

"Who said I'm going back to San Lorenzo?" Arnold cocked his head to the side, genuinely confused. "We're moving back to Hillwood."

"Then why have you been following everyone to their classes instead of taking your own?"

"I don't transfer in officially for another week. They're still trying to sort out the whole thing with equivalencies since I was home schooled."

"You're really moving back?" Helga demanded. "And you're not going to run off to the jungle all over again?"

Arnold thought it over. "Well, I've got high school to finish. After that I might go back, but that's not for several years. I'm sorry I didn't write you or call you, but you never wrote to me either."

"I never sent them, but I did write them," Helga said softly, still studying the flower in her hand. "I thought you might have moved on."

Arnold chuckled. "Seems like we were on the same line of thinking, then," he clasped his hand around Helga's, effectively sealing the flower between their cupped hands. "We never actually got to go out. You don't have to make me your boyfriend, just please, go on one date with me?"

Helga couldn't fight it off any more. She pretended to think it over. "Oh, all right, Arnold, but this is your treat. I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Some might even consider it charity work."

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold said agreeably before leaning in and kissing her.

"Boy howdy, that went better than I expected it to," Sid admitted. The gang was once more watching the pair by hiding behind the corner of the school building. "Thought for sure Helga would at least have broken his arm…"

"Willickers, I don't think she could do that to Arnold…she's always loved him, right?" Stinky asked.

"Will you idiots just shut up so we don't get caught?" Rhonda demanded, shushing them both.

"I'd say this is a rather happy ending, wouldn't you?" Phoebe asked the group as a whole, though her eyes were on Gerald. He nodded his agreement.

"Mmm-mm-mm. It's about time this whole thing came full circle."

"Eww, gross, they're _still _kissing!" Harold declared so loudly that Rhonda slapped her hand over his mouth and shushed him. A moment later she removed her hand. "I say it's not a happy ending until I get something to eat, I'm starving!" A Fudgy Bar was quickly passed his way.

"You guys stink at spying," Helga called after she and Arnold finally broke away from their kiss. Their expressions guilty, the group came out to meet her and Arnold.

"Looks like everything's back to the way it used to be," Nadine surmised. "Everyone's back."

"Now that you two are together, and," Lila giggled, "Harold has his Fudgy Bar, I'm ever so certain this can be declared a happy ending." Everyone except Helga nodded their agreement.

"You guys are a bunch of saps," Helga declared. "Especially you, Arnoldo."

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold still hadn't let go of her hand. She gave it a squeeze. "Why don't we all go to Slausen's for some ice cream?" The suggestion was met with great enthusiasm, and together all of the kids walked off, reunited for the first time in what felt to all of them like both far too long, and yet somehow…just like yesterday.

**The End**

**Author's note: **Hope you enjoyed and huge thanks for reading!


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